Angel
by SpoonyChan
Summary: DemRoku, AU. Collab with LunatiC0KyoujiN. Roxas is the new kid in Twilight High and finds he has feelings for the Junior Demyx...but he isn't too happy about it. Neither are his parents.


For the longest time I really wondered what was wrong with me, until I realized there was nothing "wrong" about it. They always told me it was wrong and the majority of the society always told me the same by cringing at the word or thought or _anything _about it. I'd say it confused me _why_, but it really didn't. It was different. Human beings are generally afraid of anything different.

That's why I was afraid of Demyx at first. He was different, and he made me _feel_ different.

I was new to Twilight High the day I met him, and he being the incredibly bubbly and forward person he is, introduced himself to me in a heartbeat. As fast as he made his way over to me was as fast as my heart raced as he spoke to me. He was so…I dunno…_pretty_? From his perfectly toned skin to his frosted-tip Mohawk, mullet…whatever it was, his amazing sea-colored eyes…I just couldn't look at him without feeling myself become dizzy.

He asked for my name but it really wasn't my place to tell him -- he wasn't finished with his sentence at asking for my name. He asked if he could call me "Angel". I thought I was coming down with a fever the instant he said that, my face explicitly turning pink and a temperature that had to have killed a good portion of my brain. He just giggled before I quickly spat my name out at him a little too fast, but he caught it. He said he liked it.

I felt my insides tense, squirm, and do every wrestling move ever named when I learned he had P.E. with me…then lunch. He has this smile that…I dunno. Every time I see it, I can't help but feel lighter. I can swear I can fly then…that smile is always there.

He likes to talk to me too. I don't know why – for whatever reason, I'm usually too tongue-tied to talk back. It's not like he gives me much time to talk anyway. I don't mind though – I don't talk much to anyone anyway. And Demyx, well…he's so fragile. I didn't want to hurt him with my words. My words eventually hurt _someone_, and I especially didn't want them to hurt Demyx…

I realized after a while the direction in which my mind was heading…but only when I had a dream. It was a soft one, one where I felt like I was flying. I always felt that way around Demyx, so Demyx was definitely there. I saw him, he smiled at me, and then he kissed me. It…was only on the cheek, but that was only because I got startled and turned my head so he would catch the cheek instead of my lips.

But…I _liked _it.

Waking from that was a total scare. I told myself over and over that _I'm not gay…I'm not gay…I'm not gay…I don't like Demyx that way…he's only a friend…only a friend._

It didn't work. The dream kept haunting me, becoming clearer and clearer every night. I couldn't stand it anymore. I took the house key on my belt, clipped it off, and dragged it deeply against my wrist.

That didn't work either.

Hell, when did it _ever_?

Still, I liked the pain. It was some kind of soothing ease, but it didn't make that happy feeling I got whenever I thought of Demyx go away. At some point I started to cry and embrace the fact as I rummaged through the knives, cutting across the top of my arm…

D

What was the fact, though?

E

It couldn't be that I loved him…

M

…could it?

Y

…yeah it could.

X

"I love you Demyx…" I whimpered pitifully. I felt like an idiot, but it was relaxing somehow as I looked at the pink cuts across the top of the arm, crying into it. The saline tears stung wonderfully against the unusual wound…

When my mother came in.

I was never good at lying, so I just told her the truth. I was given two days off of school.

Pff, yeah. In therapy. Something told me I needed it after performing that stunt…

But every contradicting word of the droning therapist only made me fall more in love with Demyx. Oh my _God_, why couldn't I just let him go?

_Because he would break_.

When I made it back to school, Demyx found his arms' way around me and I found one of mine around him. I was wearing the school's jacket so he wouldn't see the cuts and told him that I was sick, but his cocked puppy stare told me that he knew I wasn't telling the truth. He told me, as if he knew the whole story, that he was there for me. I managed a smile up at him, my eyes meeting his for the first time in a while. I could see him writhing inside and it only made me smile more. He told me that he was glad I didn't smile a lot because if I did, he'd die, melt, suffocate…something like that, but whatever it was it made me get that dizzy feeling that I had a fever again. He reassured me with a kiss on the forehead. I thought I'd pass out from all the stars flying across my vision.

When lunch rolled around, I found it was my responsibility to tell the one I loved that…well, not that I loved him, but that I wasn't really sick the two days before. I told him it was because of him, but quickly started talking about how my parents are really religious and narrow-minded…but that was it, I sunk in too far. He didn't get it, and the thing he didn't get was the thing I didn't want to say. He made a quick gasp and asked me if I liked him. I hid my eyes behind my bangs with a simple downturn of the head.

I said yes.

He hugged me and cheered, "Yaayyyy!" and I tensed up…but I really did like it.

He eventually asked me if I'd go out with him. I said yes of course, and snuck a kiss on his soft lips. I felt like I was soaring when I did so as he melted.

Now I go over to his house all the time, regardless of what my parents say. I get an earful from them on a regular basis, but I've learned to block them out. Their words don't affect me. I love Demyx too much…watching him and his look of deep concentration as he plucks at his Sitar, holding his shoulders as I counteract with my own tongue, sliding it along the maw of his mouth…and I swear, we're levitating in midair, the wind rushing through us as we move in time with each other's hips.

It hurt…but I was used to pain. I had the marks on my arm to prove it. He didn't really like them…and told me that I should stop. I promised I would…he seemed to crack a little at the sight of them. I wouldn't let him shatter to pieces.

He asked me if it hurt as I limped around like a soldier out of war…it was ridiculous. I told him "a little" as I sat down.

"No, silly," he chuckled, "I meant when you fell from Heaven."


End file.
